Icariel's eyes widened. "What? Now?" he asked mentally.
But he knew the truth: the voice never spoke without reason. If it said the time was now, then it was now.
"What do I need to do?"
The voice responded firmly, "I'll quickly explain. Superhumans, as you know, awaken to an otherworldly physical body—immensely strong and capable. But that strength is only the shell. The true importance lies in their ability to withstand and use 'Skills'—the real powers."
Icariel replied, "So… without a superhuman body, even if a human obtained a skill, they'd be destroyed by using it?"
"Exactly," the voice confirmed."And in this battle, anything could happen. You need every advantage you can get. Do you understand?"
"Yes. What do I do?"
"Sit cross-legged. You mustn't be disturbed."
Icariel turned to Elif and Elena, who were sitting with him on the bed in the white safe room deep in the castle's basement.
"I need to check something… but I need absolute silence. One sound, and I might fail. Can you both stay quiet for me please?"
"Alright," Elena said gently, holding Elif closer. Elif nodded solemnly.
"Let's begin," Icariel whispered, lowering himself to the floor and crossing his legs. "I'm ready, Voice."
"Good. Then listen carefully…"
Meanwhile — Elven Village
Tessara stood at the village's shattered center, facing the blue-haired woman of the Godless Abyss. Bodies of fallen elves lay scattered, some still breathing. More Crogs loomed in the distance the portal they had come out still opened. Another enemy operative stood among the ruins.
But Tessara's focus was fixed on one figure—a woman laughing.
The battle between Tessara and the blue-haired member of the Godless Abyss was about to erupt.
"Hey, elf," the woman called out with a twisted grin. "What's your name? You've got beautiful eyes. Shame they're wasted on a bitch like you."
Tessara's eyes flared. "You don't deserve to know it."
The woman laughed, unbothered. "Feisty. Fine by me. But I'll still tell you my name. You should know who's about to kill you."
"Orela."
She licked her lips. "I'm Orela. The Cursed Brain."
"I don't care." Tessara moved like lightning, daggers flying from her cloak.
Orela charged through them head-on, taking bruises to her face and shoulders without flinching.
Tessara's eyes widened—she's insane. But she didn't let up.
Orela raised her palm mid-charge. "Spell: Wind Wave."
A gust of violent wind blasted Tessara backward. In that same instant, Orela leapt overhead.
"Spell:Ice Union!"
Shards of ice formed midair, slicing into Tessara's body and tearing into her cloak. One shard cracked her mask.
Backing off, Tessara gritted her teeth. "A mage? Fighting that close… and her spells are cast too fast."
Orela laughed as blood dripped from her wounds.
"You're thinking too much. Wondering how I cast like that? Remember what I said—I'm the 'Cursed Brain.' Spells that would melt a normal mind? I cast them like nothing. You know why?"
Her eyes gleamed with madness.
"Because I don't care what happens to me. The noise in my head since I've been born never stopped… so I might as well burn it all out."
Tessara glared. "She's a lunatic. I have to end this fast… without damaging the village further."
"Let's go again, crazy human," she said.
Orela grinned. "I can't wait to see that face of yours break."
Tessara clashed forward, her twin dark blades gleaming with a leaf-shaped symbol engraved in their hilts. Her silver mask shimmered under the moonlight, perfectly mirroring the fury in her silver eyes. Her long green hair streamed behind her like a banner of war as she lunged again—two clean, sharp swings aimed to cut Orela down.
But the blue-haired mage twisted just in time. The blades only nicked her arms.
"She's fast," Tessara thought, narrowing her eyes. "Despite being a mage, her body is trained—too trained."
"Is that all you've got?" Orela taunted, stepping back with an amused smirk.
Then, without warning, she whispered, "Unique Spell: Multicasting—Ice Rose."
Boom—five large crystalline roses of ice bloomed from the air around her, floating eerily in place.
Tessara tensed, unsure of their purpose—until Orela whispered again, "Spell:Wind Wave."
A gust of magic wind burst forward, launching the five frozen roses like missiles.
Tessara moved instantly. She dodged the first, twisted around the second, and shattered the third mid-air with a blade swipe—but the remaining two struck her hard, slamming her into the side of a nearby elven house.
The crash echoed through the ruined village.
Tessara pulled herself up, blood running down her shoulder, and without hesitation, dashed back at Orela. Her cloak fluttered as she closed the distance.
"Oh? You actually endured that?" Orela said, surprised but smiling. Her arms and legs were bruised and bleeding from Tessara's earlier knives, but she didn't falter. "Good. This will be fun."
Tessara's silver mask had cracked again. Her breathing was steady, her voice cold.
"Assassin Art—Elven Chapter: First Form."
Green energy enveloped her body, and wind surged around her—then, she vanished.
Orela blinked. "What?"
Fssh! Tessara appeared behind her.
"That won't work!" Orela snapped, instinctively casting "Spell: Ice Union!"
But it was a fake. A trick. Tessara was no longer there.
Too late.
Orela turned just in time to see a dagger slicing down. Her wounded shoulder from earlier slowed her movement—
"Damn it—!"
Shhk! Her arm flew through the air, severed.
"Aaaaghhh!!" she screamed, staggering back, clutching her bleeding stump.
"You bitch!" Orela hissed, pain and rage twisting her face.
Tessara stood tall, her green hair falling over her cracked mask, blades stained in blood. "I didn't want to use my secret arts on you," she said calmly. "I underestimated you. That was my mistake. But not anymore."
Orela's breathing was ragged, but her eyes gleamed. "You think you've won?" she whispered, raising her hand with trembling strength. "This is my final spell. You'll regret pushing me."
"MultiCasting: Water × Wind Control!"
A massive burst of water erupted from her, immediately twisted into a spinning vortex by furious wind. It spiraled violently—becoming a towering tornado of water. But it wasn't just that—
Orela laughed, madness returning to her face.
"Add my unique element—Ice!"
The tornado's edges froze instantly. Anything the wind touched was left encased in jagged frost.
Tessara's eyes widened. "She's triple-casting?"
But something was wrong.
Inside Orela's body, Tessara—being an elf—saw it clearly with her enhanced vision—her magic circle was flickering, unstable. Dangerous pulses of mana surged from her brain.
"Can your body even hold this?" she said, alarmed.
Orela grinned manically.
"Who cares?" she barked. "If it breaks, even better! It's finally quiet then!"
"Tch… you leave me no choice." Tessara muttered.
"Assassin Art—Elven Chapter: Third Form… Dagger Fusion."
A colossal dagger of pure green energy formed before her. She hurled it forward—straight into the heart of the icy tornado.
Orela laughed. "Fool! There's no chance your attack wins against mine!"
Fssh.
A voice whispered behind her. "I know," Tessara whispered. "That's why I didn't rely on it because..."
Orela froze.
Behind her—Tessara.
"...like a true assassin, I always have a second blade. And with your right arm gone... you're wide open."
Shhk! A vertical slash tore across Orela's back.
"Khhg!" Blood sprayed from her mouth as she collapsed forward, face smashing against the stone. She twitched slightly—alive, but barely.
"Is this... my end?" Orela muttered, her blue hair falling across her blood-stained face. Her voice was faint, almost peaceful. Blood dripped from the countless wounds tearing across her body.
"I guess it truly is... I can't hear the bees anymore," she whispered with a smile. "The noise in my head... it's finally gone. To die like this... in battle... I'm grateful."
"Thank you... elf."
BAM!
A savage kick from Tessara slammed into her side, flipping her over. Orela's body sprawled onto the ground, her face turned toward the sky.
Tessara stood over her. Her silver mask cracked, barely holding on—until a final snap broke it fully.
Her face was revealed.
Sharp silver eyes glinted beneath the mask, their intensity matching the fury inside her. Her face was stunning—unlike a typical elf's, something different in her features. But one detail stood out—a faded rope-shaped scar on her lower left cheek.
Orela's eyes widened.
"Oh..." she breathed weakly. "So I finally get to see your face. And that tattoo... I know what that mark means. You were like me, huh?"
"You killed children… mothers…" Tessara's voice cracked, the fury in her hands shaking with grief. "I still remember the kid eyes. And you want to relate to me? You think we're the same because we were both broken?"
She kicked Orela again, but her face was twisted—less fury now, more anguish. "Don't pretend you were a victim. You made yourself a monster."
BAM!
Another kick landed hard in Orela's stomach, sending blood spraying from her mouth.
"Die. Just die already."
Orela coughed, her breath slowing.
"Yeah... I'm almost there." She smiled again, eyes half-lidded. "But I didn't have a choice. You bear that mark. So you know what we've been through. What we lost. What they made of us..."
"Shut up!!" Tessara screamed. Unlike her opponent, she was breaking down.
BAM!
Another kick.
Orela's mouth bled freely, her lips twitching in pain and fading consciousness.
"That doesn't change anything!" Tessara shouted. "None of that justifies what you did! You killed innocent people. Families. Children!"
Orela's eyes opened slowly—quietly.
"I see..." she whispered. "Maybe we're not the same after all. Maybe you were chosen by the right people... and I was left to the worst. That's why you don't understand me."
Tessara raised her dagger.
"You're unbelievable. Die now—!"
But before she could strike—the air shifted. Heavily. Oppressively.
The portal the Crogs had used to come to the elven home... it hadn't closed.
A sound echoed—a footstep.
A human foot emerged from the portal. And with it, a pressure unlike anything Tessara had ever felt before.
It pinned her in place. Her knees almost buckled.
"What... is this?" she muttered, fear creeping into her voice.Even as one of the strongest elves of her tribe—she couldn't move.
Orela, still bleeding out, smiled faintly.
"He's here..." she whispered. "It's over for you all."
Tessara's head snapped toward the portal.She saw a figure. But only for a second.
He vanished—and reappeared instantly, kneeling by Orela's side.
"What?!" Tessara gasped, stumbling backward. "When... when did he—how did he move so fast?"
The figure slowly stood, finally revealing himself.
He was tall. Handsome. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair. Piercing orange eyes. A cruel smirk twisting his lips. On his right shoulder—a tattoo: a severed head skewered by a sword. The symbol of the Godless Abyss.
He wore no armor. Just black pants and a long black jacket, open at the chest—revealing a lean, powerful body.
"Orela, dear," he said softly, voice like venom wrapped in silk. "Why didn't you use the crystal if you couldn't win with your own power?"
Orela's voice was faint, reverent. "If my own powers weren't enough... then I accept defeat. As a mage, I don't want to hold on to cheap tricks. I respect that rule above all."
The man smiled gently. "I see. You did well."
He reached down and cradled her head. "Rest now."
"Thank... y—"
CRACK.
Tessara's eyes widened in horror.
He crushed Orela's skull with his bare hand.
Her body went limp—a corpse with no head.
"Fool," the man muttered, tossing her body aside like garbage. "Can't even do one thing properly."
Blood dripped from his fingers. Then he looked at Tessara. And smiled.
"And you, bitch…" he said, voice now sharp and venomous. "I'll deal with you fast. I've got other things to do."
He raised a finger—Orela's blood still dripping down his hand.
Tessara tightened her grip on her daggers and slid into a fighting stance.